


It's Only A Dream Little One

by SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight



Series: They Go Together. [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, General Emotional Confusion and Constipation for all parties, Geralt Getting Sick, Jaskier thinks they don't know how to parent, M/M, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Sick Ciri, Sickfic, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Some Swearing, Worried Jaskier | Dandelion, he might be right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22712488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight/pseuds/SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight
Summary: Ciri learns how to braid hair.Jaskier Sings Ciri to sleep.Geralt is lying about his injury.Ciri gets sick.Jaskier Worries.A Druid Healer shows up and Geralt should have maybe told Jaskier what his mother looks like.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: They Go Together. [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624777
Comments: 21
Kudos: 261
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaraJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraJade/gifts).



> So, again, I've only seen the tv show three times. And a few scenes from Wild Hunt. 
> 
> The Lullaby Jaskier Sings Ciri is Sleep Song by Secret Garden found here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yQpU_73Dv0&feature=youtu.be
> 
> This one ends on kind of a cliff hanger... So it's going to have a chapter two. :/ Sorry not sorry.  
> Spoilers ish:  
> MaraJade, as per request Visenna shows back up in this one... hope it tickles your fancy.
> 
> Oh, also if anyone has suggestions for where I can find a good world map that would be super helpful. :)

Geralt

He rode with the princess bracketed between his arms. She was currently resting against his chest trying hard not to fall asleep. She was wrapped protectively in her own cloak and in his. 

“Sleep Cirillia.” 

He said quietly to the top of her head. He didn’t understand why but he couldn’t help but want her to feel safe and protected. She had shared her flight from Cintra and the Doppler with him the previous night and woken with nightmares. He had not been able to help with that in any real way and so he hoped she could sleep now. 

While he rode he thought about the two questions she had asked him. Both of which he was being tight lipped about. He was unsure how to go about this whole situation. Nothing had gone according to plan. Not a damn thing. First she had asked about Yennefer, and then with a wrinkled brow and terribly confused, about Jaskier. Not only had he been caught of guard by those questions, she was persisting still, a week into their travels. He had explained that both parties were....friends, one a bard ( who he spoke more about, and that was very little indeed) and the other a sorceress. Beyond that he had told her nothing, save that they would reunite with Jaskier and then go to Kaer Morhen for the winter. He needed time to plan and to train her. He couldn’t leave her unarmed and unable to defend herself. Beyond that, from what she had said,and what he could sense, she would likely need training in magic. He let out a loud breath through his nose as Roach kept them moving at a steady pace. His leg ached.

It was healing, better than it should have, likely thanks to Visenna, though he would never, ever admit as much out loud. If he were in his right mind, and hadn’t made a promise they would be going straight to the keep, he and Ciri. But, he had made a promise and he would not break it. The bite, he knows, won't kill him quickly, not now, but if it goes much longer untreated (properly, the way it should be) he could potentially lose his leg and that was a terrible thought. He scowled and wiped water from his face. The rain was coming harder. Judging by the pull on his medallion they didn’t have long to go before they were with Jaskier. Instead of vibrating the way it did around monsters and magic, it was locked to the enchantment on Jaskiers ring in such a way that it hummed instead, a soft tone that was activated on command. He couldn't have it just randomly humming. The tone had grown in strength standing out bolder as they moved in their current direction. He straightened in the saddle, the city gates were visible in the distance, they’d be there in an hour's time at most. 

Geralt dismounts at the inn. Judging by the sound of music and laughter from inside, Jaskier is definitely inside. Ciri wakes with the sudden stop and his movements. He helps her down and she shivers. Absently he draws her to his side and grudgingly lets the stable boy tend to Roach, not without a few very vehement threats and a promise of extra coin if she is well looked after. He heaves the saddle bags over his other shoulder and leads Ciri inside with a hand on her shoulder. 

The song concludes and Jaskier makes eye contact with him.  
“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, there is something I must attend to now.” There's a general grumble of discontent in the crowd, but Jaskier continues, “ Have heart, I will play more another time. Come and see me then.” Geralt leads Ciri to the table nearest the back corner as he watches Jaskier address the innkeeper. Jaskier brings them over two mugs of warm spiced cider and a mug of spiced apple juice for Ciri. Geralt watches with a cocked head as the bard hesitates for a moment. He clears his throat.  
“Cirilla, this is Jaskier. Jaskier, Cirilla. My child surprise.” The bard sets down the drinks in their appropriate places and nods smiling, lute strapped to his back.  
“It’s nice to meet you Cirilla. May I call you Ciri?” She looks up at him cold and miserable. She nod’s but doesn’t speak.  
“It’s mulled apple juice. I hope that's alright? And supper will be right out." He sets his lute beside him and sits across the table from Geralt.  
“Yes.” Geralt is having a staring contest with his musician and trying to behave himself. His lips twitch when Jaskier nudges his foot beneath the table.  
“How was the trip? And oh, Ciri take those off.” He motions to the cloaks. “You’ll catch a cold. Do you have anything dry to put on?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, “Geralt if she’s been soaked like this all day she could catch a cold. We should eat quickly,” the food is in front of them “Thank you,” he manages to break from his monologue and address the barmaid, “ and get her in a warm bath, then dry clothes, and into a warm bed in a warm room.” His foot drops away from Geralts and the witcher can only look at him.  
“Does he ever breathe?” Ciri whispers to him and he smiles,  
“Sometimes.”  
“Hey! I am right here, little miss.” She smiles a little and looks down at her stew before taking a large bite. Geralt watches her face light up as she shrugs off both cloaks and takes another bite. He follows suit. 

Jaskier

“This, darling mine” Jaskier says spreading salve on the witchers thigh fresh from his own bath, “is not what I meant by ‘come back safe to me.’ ” 

“Can’t you just be glad I came back.” The witcher huffs. 

“Really Geralt.” Jaskier says straightening his back, indignant, and looking the witcher in the eyes. 

“Hm.”

“Alright then.” He wraps the wound up with fresh bandages and steps back. 

“Jask.” 

“Yes.”

“Are you well?” He stares down at the witcher with a tilted head. 

“Really, A week with the girl and you’re asking questions like that? Never mind literal decades with me. Remind me to thank her will you. But yes Geralt, I am well. Better now.” He leans down and kisses the corner of his witchers mouth. He pulls back a moment.

“Have you told her about us? Or are we…” 

“I haven’t; but I have been thinking about how.” 

“And what, pray tell, my dear have you thought?” 

“That this is all going to be far too complicated.” 

“There isn’t anything complicated about this Geralt. I love you, you I hope, love me. Let’s tell Cirilla as much and be done with it.”  
Geralt is looking up at him from his perch on the bed with an intense stare that seems to say,  
“What the Fuck Jaskier of course I do.” And then he’s being pulled into the witchers half clothed lap and being kissed senseless. He pulls away enough to say,

“There’s a child in the next room.” 

“She’ll knock or she’ll find out about us.” Geralt rasps against his ear. He shivers.

“Yes, but. We should make sure she is warm and dry and gets settled for a good night’s sleep. And really, we could scare her for life Geralt.” He says even as he threads his fingers through Geralt’s hair. 

“Hmm.” And now his back is on to the mattress and Geralt's lips are at his neck and okay, he really wants to be fucked and Ciri is probably enjoying a long hot bath. He pulls Geralt’s hair and gets a growl. 

“Jask. Take. The. Damn Shirt. Off.” He wastes no time in removing the offending garment.

They dress just in time, a knock on the door and Ciri is stepping in. Hair wet but dressed in one of Jaskiers spare sets of night clothes and clean. The clothes are literally trying to fall off of her, and she looks a little uncomfortable. They’ll. He will need to take her shopping tomorrow. 

“Uhm,” She starts uncertain looking between the two of them slightly dishevelled. This was going to require tact. “Do you have a brush… Or a comb?” 

“Yes we do indeed.” He wastes no time in responding trying to ease the awkwardness that has bubbled in all of them. He will chalk it up to the events he still has yet to hear about. He goes to the dresser and lifts one up. Ciri stands awkwardly in the doorway. Their room only has two beds, Geralt is in one of them. She takes the offered comb and looks for a place to sit. Jaskier smiles softly and sits beside Geralt on the edge of the bed.

“You can sit with us if you like.” She nods and climbs up on the bed with them. She starts in on her hair watching them. No one speaks not really sure what to say. He watches her grow frustrated with her hair. The comb is getting caught in the tangles. He reaches out and stops her hand gently. There is freedom for her to pull away. She looks up at him and swallows. 

“May I help? Would that be okay?”

She nods and they shift so that they are both facing Geralt who is content to watch the two interact. He starts by simply detangling her hair with his fingers. He hums without realizing it. Eventually he asks,  
“May I braid it for you?”

“Yes please.” She says as if it's the nicest thing anyone has said to her in such a long time. And Jaksier thinks that maybe it is. 

“Tomorrow if you like, I’ll take you to get some new clothes and a set of sleepwear.” He watches Geralt nod, obviously on the same page as he is.

“Thank you.” Ciri says sounding tired. 

Geralt

He watches Jaskier work Ciri’s hair into a braid. It starts at the top of her head and goes all the way down. He sits up a little more, resting his back on the headboard. He’s glad the bard is able to help her like this and even more so that he’s happy to take her shopping tomorrow. 

“Jaskier, where did you learn that?”

“Jealous, witcher?” 

Ciri giggles. “Maybe you can braid his?” 

“Oh, now there’s a brilliant idea.” He pats her head and looks at Geralt who stares back at him with unwavering gold eyes. 

“I can’t believe I haven’t thought about it before. You should let me braid it Geralt.” 

“No.” 

“Ciri, do you think that is a firm no, or just an I’m not going not let you do that right now kind of no? Hmm no matter, I’m certain he’d let you do it.” His voice is low and sly. Geralt manages not shiver with the looks he’s receiving. 

“I can’t do it, I don’t know how.”

“Well now he has to let me braid it so I can teach you. Don’t you think? If you want to learn how that is?”  
Geralt watches her consider the offer for a moment and then nod. 

“Hmmm,” It’s a low hum. He is tired, but she looks so happy about the idea, and really, it’s not as if anyone else will see. 

“Yes?”

He watches Ciri look between him and Jaskier.  
He makes himself stand and keeps his face neutral then he sits back down on the floor with his back to the bed. Hair completely available. He can’t see it but he is certain that Jaskier is grinning and that Ciri is smiling. He closes his eyes as familiar hands detangle his hair. He doesn’t sleep just remains relaxed and meditative. There are a few tugs to hard, but he just grits his teeth a moment and lets Ciri keep working as Jaskier gives her encouraging words and instruction. 

It shouldn't surprise him but Jaskier is very good and teaching. By the fifth time his hair has been done up and undone he can tell there has been a noticeable change.

“Excellent Ciri! I think you may have it down. Maybe we can get Roach to let you practice on her?” 

“That might be fun.” Ciri says and her tone is lighter than it has been the last few days. 

“You can try, but I doubt she will let you.” 

“Are you sure? I mean what have all the sugar cubes and carrots, and apple slices I've given her over the years been for? Hmmm.” He pushes himself to his feet a fond smile barely visible on his face, because it’s Jaskier and Ciri and he is content with them. Ciri yawns and he sighs. Right. They still need to explain they’ll be sharing a bed and why. She rubs her eyes. She blinks up at him blearily. The sun is beginning to set outside and the rain is faltering. 

“Bed.” He says and lifts Ciri up from the bed. He sets her feet on the ground and guides her to the other bed. 

“But there’s three of us and only two beds.” She says through another yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Jask and I are going to share.” If she asks, she asks. 

“Okay.” She says and allows herself to be tucked into bed. He and Jaskier settle into theirs without much thought. Routines are interesting like that, once a pattern is established it’s easy to go back to, even after three weeks. Geralt watches Ciri drift off and then speaks lightly when her breathing has settled into a deep even rhythm. 

“We need to go to Kaer Morhen.” 

“Your witcher school?” Jaskier rolls so his chin is on his chest and he’s making eye contact. A sweet little smile graces his face. 

“Mmm.”

“Why?” 

“The bite, I need to consult with Visimer.” 

“ The sooner the better, I imagine. It's worse then it looks isn't it?”

“Hmm. I was hoping we could set out by mid morning. How much coin do you have left?”

“A substantial amount.” Jaskier is smiling up at him. “I was working the whole time, so I was able to keep it replenished. We have quite thee little trove. What are you thinking?” 

“She needs clothes, winter clothes and you will need some too. I need some supplies as well.” 

“We should sleep then, be up with the sun and get a move on.” Geralt smirks at him. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier sounds abashed, a flush turning his face and neck very very red. “No.” 

He rolls his eyes and lets out a little laugh. 

“You should see your face, bard.” 

“Arse.” A kiss to his cheek and then Jaskier is settling in beside him. Sleep finds them quickly that night, until Ciri wakes from a nightmare. 

Ciri

Her grandmother's corpse is looming over her, telling her to be brave. The flesh of her face is pale and drawn tight against the bones, the wound in her chest is rotting, her insides spilling out. She can’t move, her limbs are like lead at her side. Mousesack is hovering to the side, only his face is shifting and shimmering between his own and the face of a creature unknown. Another man is calling out for her, she can see from the corner of her eye it’s the black knight with his bow drawn aimed at her Grandmother. She wants to scream but there is no air in her lungs. She feels like she is suffocating. There are hands on her. She’s being pulled down, down, down, into the earth. No, up, up, up, now to the side. She doesn’t know where she is. She closes her eyes. There are voices mocking her. Someone is calling out to her. She knows this voice. This voice is safe. Powerful. Another one joins in gentle and emotive. She tries to reach them but can't. 

Her eyes fly open but she can’t see. She thrashes about trying to protect herself from unseen foes. The room is black. Then there is a flicker of light, a candle ignites. Geralt is standing at the foot of the bed looking at her with a steady gaze. She looks away from him, shame bubbling up in her stomach into her chest. If she doesn’t let it out she might drown. She sobs. 

“Oh, no. Little one. Ciri. You’re alright. It was only a bad dream. Can I… can I sit beside you.”

Jaskier asks voice soothing and gentle from her side, crouched beside the bed. She nods through her sobs, arms pulled tight around her middle like she can hide from everyone. She pulls her legs in too. 

“Can I… is it okay if I—”

She cuts him off flinging herself into his open arms. He tightens them around her. There are whispers in her ear, and a hand is wiping tears from her eyes as quickly as they come. Another hand is rubbing soothingly at her upper back. Then there is a humming and the feel of it beneath her cheek is so nice. She focuses on it. Focuses on the soft voice still in her ear and sniffles. She lets Jaskier maneuver her back to a laying down position. He plays with her hair, running his hand through the strands that have come out of the braid. Her eyes are growing heavy again. She struggles against it. The far away singing stops for a moment,

“Sleep Cirilla, Lion Cub of Cintra. We will keep you safe.” 

Then the song resumes still far away. And she drifts, and when she dreams again, it’s of sailing, and fields of flowers, of angels guarding her and love and happiness. 

Jaksier 

“Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay…” 

He finishes softly, brushing his fingers against Ciris forehead. He removes himself from her bed gently and resists the urge to kiss her forehead.  
He looks at Geralt looking at Ciri and smiles sadly. The witcher looks vulnerable and torn. He doesn’t like it. (He does just not it’s implications.) 

“Does she have them often,” his voice is soft as a breeze. Geralt nods. He takes the older mans hand and guides him back to their bed. 

“She will be fine, you know. We will be here when she needs us.” 

“I know.”

“So then, why do you look like that?” 

“Calanthe wouldn’t give her over. We got separated and she was on her own for over a week while I tracked her down.”

“Her nightmares, are not your fault, Geralt. You did what you could do. You are not responsible for Calanthe's decisions.” He leans heavily into the witcher's shoulder. 

“Mmm.” 

“Tell me what happened.” 

So Geralt does in his short kind of way. Just enough words to tell him what happened and how it’s affecting him. He nearly shouts pulling away to look Geralt in the eyes. 

“Your mother showed up out of nowhere and did what?” 

“Helped slow the decay in my leg.” 

“Well, now if I ever see her I do have to say thank you. This is bullocks Geralt. How can she just do what she did and then come back like it’s nothing and not give you any answers and ugh. Geralt. I’m so angry about this.” 

The witcher is looking at him with that look again, the fond, gentle one that doesn’t belong on his face but fits so perfectly it leaves Jaskier breathless. He melts back into Geralt's side and the feels the rumble in his chest when he continues speaking. 

When the sun comes up Jaskier stretches. Neither he nor Geralt had gone back to sleep. They let Ciri sleep a bit longer and share a few hurried kisses before finally waking her. They eat in silence, Ciri sullen and Geralt brooding. It doesn’t take long for them to get the things they need and they set out before mid morning for Kaer Morhen. Ciri sits in front of Geralt and Jaskier rides beside him. Its too cold and damp to play his lute so he hums, or sings softly to himself. By evening it is snowing, and Jaskier notices a slight sheen of sweat on Geralt's forehead. He bites his lip and prays to whatever gods can hear him that they make it in time without incident to the keep. Worry bubbles inside him. Geralt had never said how bad the bite was nor how dangerous it must be to need Visimer's help. They set up camp quickly that night Ciri settled between them in the tent they're sharing for warmth. 

When Ciri starts coughing, his heart plummets and he prays a little harder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one dies, so Jaskier thinks that's good. Geralt does too, he just doesn't say it allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this chapter, not really. Let me know what you think? 
> 
> Also if anyone knows where I can find a good break down of the Witcher characters and their personality's portrayed well that would be so helpful. (I'm working on getting and reading the books.) But right now, I just have that brief scene in the show.

Jaskier 

It’s two days later when they come across a little village. There’s a small inn and they’re given a room. It only has one bed, so they give it to Ciri. Her cough has gotten worse. It’s deep in her lungs and she looks so miserable. The village doesn’t have a healer at the moment, she’s away. In turn they don’t have an apothecary shop either. There is a low groan as Gerlat sits next to the fire. He has two pots brewing, one is a potion for his leg, the other tea to help with Ciri’s cough. They're low on herbs so one of them will have to go gather more soon. He wipes Ciris face with a damp rag. He swallows down his worry, it won’t help anything. It’s only a cold with a very high fever, he hopes. But combined with Geralt’s leg, and his lack of sleep the last couple days, he feels raw. 

Ciri is having fever dreams which make her nightmares worse, and she is rarely fully conscious. Geralt’s limp is worse. And the witcher is getting angry. He sighs.

“Geralt, I don’t think this is just a cold.” He says as Ciri falls into another coughing fit. She’s propped up in the bed to avoid choking as she coughs. Geralt brings her a cup of hot tea. Both pots are sitting off the fire now to cool. 

“Make her drink this. I am going to go get more supplies.” 

“Maybe you should stay and I should go?”

“No, I know what I’m looking for. It will be quicker like this.” His tone is sharp and clipped. Jaskier wants to argue that he has traveled with Geralt long enough to recognize what is needed, but he won’t, not now. 

“Try to get some sleep, Jask.” He watches the witcher slip out the door in his armor with his swords on his back. 

So he tries to sleep. He does. He tries that is, but every time Ciri’s breath catches he has to fight off panic until it evens out again. He got her to drink the tea and it’s helping a little. He drifts on the edge of sleep. Usually he and Geralt take turns staying up with her. She’s been refusing food and water because her throat hurts and she is disinterested in it. 

He realizes he’s been staring at the candles lighting the room when a knock at the door catches his attention. He opens it and a woman is standing there, a full apothecary satchel on her shoulder. Her hair is red and braided over her shoulder, her eyes a gentle green. 

“ May I help you?” Jaskier asks tiredly. 

“ The innkeeper says you’ve a sick child with you, and an injured Witcher.”

“ Are you this town’s healer?” It doesn’t actually matter because she looks like she can help. And at this point any help is better than none. They don’t know how to care for a daughter, they barely take care of themselves properly. 

“ No, I’m just passing through. I am a healer though.” 

Jaskier hesitates a moment and then let’s the woman in. Her eyes say trust me but there’s something he can’t place. A thought that won’t form. 

“What are her symptoms?” The woman asks, moving to Ciri’s side. She lifts a hand to her forehead and pulls it away a moment later. 

“ It started with a cough that’s getting worse. Phlegm, she’s tired and lethargic. She doesn’t want to eat and I can barely make her drink anything. She says it hurts if she breathes too deeply.” 

“Mmm I believe she may have pneumonia. Easily treatable with the right supplies and some magic.” The woman sets out some supplies on the table and looks at the two pots. She needs one of them and wisely chooses the tea. She pours it into a bowl. 

“Your Witcher has been on the right track giving her that.” 

“ He's smart.” Jaskier says absently wiping Ciri’s face. 

“Tell me about him?” She asks gently grinding herbs and adding them to the bowl with the tea in it. It will all be heated again to maximize the effects.

“ Where do I even begin? He's harsh at times and often brash but he is fiercely just and protective. He has his own moral compass and follows it. He can be soft, when he thinks no one is around to see him. He’s the bravest person I know, that I have ever or will ever meet.” 

“It sounds like you love him.” She says as though that's the most obvious thing in the word. 

“ I do.” He responds happily without hesitation. They continue like this for a while. She asks questions and he answers. Eventually the brew is ready and she gives him directions on how it should be administered and to make sure she drinks water and broth because she will need energy. She tells him that Ciri will need a lot of rest. Then she leaves some ingredients on the table when she stands and says,

“ For Geralt.” 

He looks at her like he’s actually seeing her for the first time.

“ I don’t recall telling you his name.” She’s faced away from him, near the door. 

“ You didn’t have to. I came to make sure his leg is doing alright, but I knew he wouldn’t want to see me. No matter what happens, I am his mother.” 

Jaskier clenches his jaw and lets out a breath. She has saved Geralt and now Ciri. Her breathing is already steadier, easier and she soundly asleep to his left. 

“ I don’t want to say this. But I mean the words. Thank you…. For saving them.” He swallows. Silence hangs in the air between them before he continues. His voice is hoarse and rough. “Why did you abandon him? You're his mother,” his voice is rising, anger starting to boil in his veins. “How could you let him be turned into a Witcher? A Witcher of all things! How old was he? What if Visimier hadn’t taken him in? What if he had died in those woods? What if the trials had killed him? You. You are not his mother. You gave birth to him but you are not the one who raised him.” He broke off. She could choose to let them die. To take back and undo what she had already done. He watches her straighten her back and then softly respond. 

“Those are truths I cannot share. Rest now. They will both be fine. Tell him if you must, though I’m sure he will know..” 

Then she opens the door and leaves. He watches her go his heart aching for Gerlat in a way it hasn’t in a long time. He sits heavily at the foot of Ciri’s bed. His thoughts consume him. How could a woman who heals leave her own child for dead? How could she leave him to become what men call a monster? How could she? The questions are infinite. He nods off watching the candles burn low. 

He wakes to the smell of smoke. 

Geralt

He’s found most of what he needs. The snow has started to cover the ground even in the densest parts of the forest. He’s further from the inn than he intended to be. Still the ingredients are necessary. He won’t let Jaskier tend the wound anymore. He can smell it, the rot, hidden just under the smell of medicinal herbs. The wound is getting deeper and bigger. He has maybe three days before the damage starts to be irreparable. 

He is tired. 

His body is drained from trying to heal a wound that can’t be healed with a simple salve. The potion he is brewing will give him a few extra days. It should be enough. He thinks of the path back to the keep. It’s only a few days more but with Ciri so sick it won’t be easy. 

He stops abruptly wrinkling his nose. There’s a sharp scent in the air. It’s acidic and heavy. Smoke, but not just the wood smoke of a chimney. He looks up and sees smoke curling above the treetops, it’s a darker grey than the sky. He doesn’t waste time. He makes his way back to the village quickly despite his leg. 

The inn isn’t just on fire it’s almost completely engulfed. He’s isn’t even to the town yet just back on the main road. He whistles for Roach and hopes someone has set their horses free.

He moves faster now, adrenaline like liquid fire in his limbs. He stops short, shocked. Jaskier is coming around the corner out of the alley with Ciri wrapped in a blanket and limp over one shoulder and a satchel and his lute in the other. He moves again taking the limp girl from Jaskier.

“What happened?”

“ Oh yes, Geralt we’re completely fine! Thanks for asking. I just love life threatening fires so much. They take my breath away, that’s not a joke. And the horses are fine too, you know? That's why I — “

He kisses the bard, if only to shut him up for a moment. When he pulls away he gives him a look. 

Jaskier sighs and leans heavy on the wall of the building behind him. Geralt sees the weariness in him. Ciri shivers in his arms.

“I’m going to help put out the fire. Stay here with Ciri.” 

He puts the girl down next to his bard takes a few steps then doubles back and leaves his cloak then goes to help. The result is a merciful old farmer offering them his barn. There’s no animals in it just dry hay. He stores it for the other famers. He’s too old to tend the animals himself and has no children so he teaches the younger ones. 

The barn is dry and warmer than outside. They can’t have a fire but it will suffice for tonight. The farmer has provided them with heaps of blankets. It’s a truly ridiculous amount. But he is worried for the girl. He even offers to let Ciri and Jaskier stay in the house, but it’s just as drafty as the barn. 

Ciri is curled up on his left with blankets on top of her and beneath her. Jaskier is pulled tight against him on his right. Jaskier shows him what’s in the satchel. It’s not much. The brew for Ciri, which he is told he’ll have explained in a moment, the potion he’d been making hastily put into a water skin and a few other ingredients. He quirks his eyebrow and waits. Their coin purse, his potions, and Jaskiers notebook.  
He breathes in, the acrid smell of fire and smoke clinging to everything around them. But there’s another scent just below it that isn’t Jaskier or Ciri.  
Jaskier sits up abruptly beside him.

“Hmm” he managed. He needs sleep, and he’d been comfortable just a minute ago. 

Jaskiers voice is uncertain when he speaks so Geralt sits up as well. 

“ A woman came to the inn.” The Bard runs a hand through his very messy hair and then down over his face and continues,  
“A healer. A sorceress.” Geralt goes rigid.  
“ It would have been nice to know what she looked like Gerlat.” His tone isn’t angry, just frustrated and tired. He continues,  
“Not that I was in a position to say no to help. Ciri has pneumonia. That there should help.” He waves vaguely at the canteen with the tea in it. “The list of ingredients and how to make more is in my notebook. I didn't know it was her until it was all said and done and she used your name. I’m, I am sorry Geralt. If I’d known...” 

Jaskeirs features are downcast and sullen, he looks exhausted and uncertain. He’s looking at him, waiting for an answer. He’s heard all the words. He nods in acknowledgment. He’s torn between anger and gratitude. Hate and hope. Denial and want. Finally, 

“ She left those other ingredients.”

It’s flat and hollow even to his own ears. To neutral. Jaskier nods at him. He rolls his shoulders. His neck pops and he lays back in the hay. A moment later Jaskier joins him. Their bodies are pressed firmly together and it’s comforting. His jaw is clenched and he can’t seem to find words. He lets out a heavy breath. He’s exhausted, meditation hasn’t been enough.

“We need to sleep, love. You can vent your feelings to me in the morning. For now, Ciri is breathing well and we are all alive.” He feels his companion curl closer to him and absently drapes and arm over his shoulders. He stares at the rafters for a long while. The noise of life around him is soothing. He remembers a voice telling him to “ live and let live” he snorts, the owner of that very voice put him on the road he was on. A monster hunter for higher from the highest bidder. Turned him loose to become a butcher, a killer, a monster. 

He lies awake conflicted by his thoughts and emotions until his body surrenders to the call of sleep. There will be time tomorrow and the following days to fathom Visennas actions and question her intentions, for now they will rest. The one thing he knows wholly and completely: It does not matter what comes their way, he will not abandon Cirilla.


End file.
